


Somewhere Only We Know

by PastelWonder



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:32:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of blending in and letting someone else win, Susan Cooper finally seems to have it all: an exciting career as an undercover agent, the chance to see the world, and a whirlwind romance with super-spy playboy Rick Ford. </p><p>But when life suddenly hands her the mother of all second chances, Susan is forced to choose between the world of intrigue and espionage and the life she’s always dreamed of…</p><p>Rick Ford is the most interesting spy in the world. Having finally landed his dream girl, foxy analyst-turned-agent Susan Cooper, this two-time middleweight boxing world champion and Sundance Film Festival’s Best Amateur Screenwriter nominee is convinced life can’t get any better than this. So when Susan suddenly disappears without a trace, Rick puts his career - and his heart - on the line to find her. </p><p>Can Susan learn to trust Rick - and herself - enough to have everything she’s ever wanted?</p><p>“Beautifully written and deeply moving, ‘Somewhere Only We Know' is an affirmation of risk taking, devotion, and the transformative power of love.”<br/>-Pastel’s mom</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Where are you, Coop?”

Susan glanced around the kitchen of her Rhode Island home. “I’m in Belize.”

“What are you doing there?” She could hear the exasperation in Fine’s voice.

She was starting to feel a little testy herself. This five minute chat had turned into a forty-five minute interrogation that was going exactly nowhere.

“Moving on - look, I just - I don’t want to be a spy anymore, and I don’t want to be an analyst either. Ok?” She stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. “I know it seems… abrupt, but I-”

“This just isn’t like you, Cooper,” Fine cut in over her.

She sighed quietly to herself.

_How would you know what I’m like?_

“Thank you for your concern,” she tried to sound polite, friendly. Firm. “But I’m not coming back to DC.”

There was a long pause, and then Fine asked, “So what will you be doing in this brand new life of yours in Belize?”

He said _Belize_ the way someone might say _Compton_.

Susan stroked her hand over her swollen belly. “Being happy,” she said softly.

An image of Rick, sitting across a table from her on a terrace in Istanbul, head thrown back as he gut-laughed at some quip she’d made, streaked across her mind.

She winced. “Really Fine, I’m fi- I’m ok. I’m doing this for me.”

Starting over on her own terms. Finally.

The pasta water was boiling. She opened the cabinet beside the stove, stretching up carefully for a box of spaghetti.

“Is Ford with you?”

She fumbled to catch the box as it slipped out of her hands. “Ford? N-no. Isn’t-” She took a deep breath. “Isn’t he with you? Wi-with the agency, I mean?”

Had something happened to Rick?

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

“No one’s seen him for four months.” The _since you left_ was implied. He added derisively, “Which isn’t unusual.”

She felt her chest tighten as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

_Don’t panic, it’s not unusual. Fine said it’s not unusual. Rick is fine._

Flashes of him tied up and beaten, hurt and crouched in a safehouse, lying dead in a ditch -

“Susan? Susan, are you still there?”

She took another deep breath and cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m still here. So, no one’s heard from Rick- Ford?”

“He’s checked in with Sharon, of course,” Fine told her in a bored tone. “Tried to hack our systems for intel - God only knows what on - anyway, Crocker says she’s really done with his shit this time -”

Susan sagged against the counter, breath caught in her throat. She felt like she could sob with relief. “When was the last time he checked in?” she breathed.

“Oh, who knows.” She could picture Fine’s dismissive wave perfectly. “Wright thought maybe you two had run away together.”

He chuckled to himself. “Isn’t that ridiculous? You and Rick Ford? Hysterical!”

“Haha! Yeah, that’s... that’s pret-ty hilarious! Hmm...” She tried to ignore the sting of humiliation, and the deeper burn of knowing Fine was right. It was completely laughable - her and Rick Ford. Together.

She rubbed her belly again, trying to push out the memory of lying in bed with Rick, his fingers laced through hers, their palms pressed together. _What do you want, Susan?_

The sharp _crack_ of dried noodles snapping in half over the stockpot jolted her out of her dream.

“I’d love to chat more, Belize you me-” she tittered nervously at her own joke. “But I have to skedaddle now. Super good talking to you!”

She hung up before he could reply, dropping her phone on the counter and her head in her hands. The stove hissed angrily as the noodle pot boiled over. “Mother butler!”

When dinner was ready, she set the table in the breakfast nook for one and lit a candle. She flipped through home decor magazines and do-it-yourself guides as she ate, dog-earing pages with projects she wanted to try or paint colors she liked.

The house was coming together nicely; she’d already set out some of her favorite odds-and-ends: a set of dishes passed down to her from her grandmother, tapestries and jeweled pill boxes from her world travels, the little glass animals she loved to collect. The major renovations, like stripping wallpaper and restaining cabinets, would have to wait until after the baby was born, when she could handle the fumes. But it pleased her to see her home starting to take shape, to make her plans and sketches and spreadsheets, checking things off her list as she did them.

It wasn’t until she was in the shower, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, that she thought about Rick again.

The last time she’d seen him was in July, in Calcutta. It was a thousand degrees, and the air was so thick with humidity she felt like she was drinking it. He’d worn sharp grey dress slacks and a white linen shirt, and took her to see the elephants and lions at the Alipur Zoo, where they could stroll under the shade of the enormous banyan trees. She fell in love with the little capuchin monkeys running loose in the zoo; he bought cashews and dates for her to feed them while he took pictures.

Later, they ordered room service and made love in his hotel room all night, touching and kissing and talking softly to each other as he moved inside her.

She hadn’t known it then, but she was already three weeks pregnant with his baby.

She watched the suds from her washcloth race each other down her breasts and over the rise of her belly, watched them drip onto the tiles and careen towards the drain, circling it faster and faster until they vanished into the dark.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

That night, she dreamed about him.

She dreamt she was back on her last assignment, in Cambodia. Only this time, she was six-months pregnant.

Terrified in a way she’d never been on any of her missions, she huddled on the safe house’s double-bed, a candle and her loaded Glock twenty-two on the nightstand beside her. She could hear the cries of animals in the distance over the rain falling on the thatched grass roof.

With the blanket pulled up to her chin, she lay curled around her belly and watched the shadows lengthen on the wall as her candle burned lower and lower.

Suddenly, there was a terrible roar, and then the booming sound of footsteps drawing nearer, and for a wild second she thought it was an elephant crashing through the jungle, charging for her hut, and she and her baby would be crushed under foot and there was nothing she could do but wrap her arms around her belly and curl tighter until-

“Susan?”

_Rick._

“Susan?”

“Rick?”

Peering over the edge of the blanket, she saw him standing in the doorway, wearing a linen shirt and crisp grey slacks. He was holding a lantern; it bathed his face in soft, warm light. The lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled.

“Susan, my darlin’. How did you get here?”

Her hands twisted in the blanket. Was it really Rick?

“I-I don’t know…”

He set the lantern on the bedside table; its light eclipsed the dying flicker of her candle, bathing the room in an orange glow. He sat down on the bed beside her.

“Rick-”

He brushed her bangs back from her eyes. His fingers were warm and calloused, hands so impossibly large.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you, my darlin’. Didn’t you hear me callin’ your name?”

The rain, the animals - is that what they were saying? _Susan - Susan - Susan…_

Her chest tightened. “I didn’t hear you - I didn’t know -”

“Shh-shh.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and covered his hand with hers, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, grief pinching her throat and stinging behind her eyelids.

“‘ush now, silly girl.” She felt his lips, thin and chapped, press against her forehead. “You’re tired.”

“I’m so tired.” She pushed her eyes open and reached her hand up to touch his nose, his mouth, his neck. She was trembling, she realized.

_Rick._

“So sleep,” he told her, smiling, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Her fingers curled in the neck of his shirt. She was so tired. “Don’t go.”

He chuckled. “I’m not the one that left, am I?”

She slipped back into darkness.

****

____________________________________________________________________________

****

He was making a pitstop at an all-night diner in West Virginia when Sharon called. He was on his way back from California, having stopped in several states along the way, following tentative leads. Places Susan had been to, places she had distant relatives, places with any connection at all.

****

Dead ends, the lot of them.

****

He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before he answered. “S’Ford.”

****

“Hey, boss. How’s it hangin’?”

****

He scrubbed his hand over his scalp, feeling the crop of stubble there. “Tired as shit. Whatcha got?”

****

“Weeeell, that tap you put on Fine’s phone?”

****

He sat up straighter in the booth. “Yeah?”

****

“Solid gold, my friend. Cooper called from a burner two hours ago.”

****

A break.

****

His heart lept.

****

_Fuckin’ finally._ “D’you get the conversation?”

****

“Most of it; there was some interference towards the end, but it was mostly Fine… being Fine,” she finished, contempt clear in her voice.

****

“Is she alright? Did she say where she is?”

****

“Here’s where it gets interesting: she told Fine she was in Belize -”

****

“Belize?”

****

_The fuck?_ They were sure she hadn’t left the country.

****

He heard her typing at her keyboard. “But I was able to triangulate the burner - thank you for your long-windedness, Fine - and she was in fact calling from an address in Rhode Island.”

****

“I’m ready.” He clamped the mobile between his ear and shoulder and dug into his pocket for a pen. He wrote it down on his napkin as she read it to him. “D’you look it up?”

****

“Ooof course,” she drawled, pleased with herself. “Get this: it’s a residential. The property sold three months ago to - you guessed it - one Susan Ann Cooper for two hundred large. Cash.”

****

Rick slumped back against his seat, stunned. _Two hundred grand? Where’d she get that kind of money?_ “Anyone else on the deed?”

****

“Nope. Just her.” Sharon paused. “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

****

He snorted. “Goin’ to Rhode Island, aren’t I?”

****

He couldn’t believe it. He’d found her.

****

“Sharon?”

****

“Yeah?”

****

“You’re fuckin’ brilliant, you know that?”

****

She said, “Thanks” like _Duh_. Then she hesitated. “Hey, B?”

****

“What?” he asked distractedly, trying to catch his waitress’s attention. _Check_ , he mouthed when he caught her eye.

****

She nodded.

****

Sharon took a deep breath. “Be careful, ok?”

****

“‘ad a bit of coffee and a few hours’ sleep, I’ll be alright.” He drained the last of his cup before he worked his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “I drove an ATV ‘cross Siberian wasteland for three-”

****

“That’s not what I meant, Ford.” She wrestled the annoyance out of her tone before she said softly, “Just... don’t let it get like it did before.”

****

Before. When he found out Susan had vanished.

****

Hearing Nancy’s voice in his ear, _She hasn’t checked in since she landed in Cambodia. That was four days ago_.

****

The sick, grinding lurch in his stomach when he found the empty safe house, her standard issue Glock twenty-two on the nightstand next to her passport and earpiece.

****

Crashing through the jungle, leaves and vines whipping his face as he shouted at the top of his lungs for her.

****

Coming back to the States to find out she’d turned in her resignation. Cut her mobile, sold her car, let go of her flat - and disappeared into thin air.

****

He signed for the tip, tucked his card back in his wallet and his wallet back in his pocket, beside Susan’s passport. He’d carried it with him since he found it.

****

“I’ll be alright,” he repeated as he stood.

****

Sharon let it drop. “I sent a map to your handheld. Watch your six out there on the road.”

****

He zipped up his jacket as he stepped out into the night. “Thanks, Share.”

****

“Sure thing, boss.” She tried to sound light. “Hop on the bus, Gus. Hit the road, Jack.”

****

“And call me when you get to the Ocean State, ok?” It wasn’t really a request.

****

“Will do.”

****

He rung off as he straddled his bike. He snapped his chinstrap, revved the engine.

****

As he flipped his blinker for the onramp to I-seventy-five, he pictured how Susan looked the last time they were together, in Calcutta - head tipped back in his hand, lips kiss-swollen and parted, big green eyes hooded and dark. Her hands slip-sliding over his sweat-slicked skin, panting into his mouth as he kissed her.

****

The way she looked at Alipur, a date pinched between her fingers, making soft kissing sounds as she fed the tiny monkey on her shoulder. Beaming at him, dimples pronounced under the apples of her cheeks, eyes bright in the sunlight filtering through the banyan trees. _Aw, look Rick - he likes it!_

****

He merged north, weaving between lanes to pass the handful of vehicles entering the interstate.

****

She hadn’t rung, written him a letter, sent a text - nothing. Absolutely nothing. It made no sense.

****

Something had to have happened; someone had threatened her, or worse, was holding her hostage. Why else would she have left like that?

****

_Why?_

****

The handheld GPS clipped to his dash said six hundred-and-fifty miles to Newport.

****

He punched it.

******  
**

____________________________________________________________________________

****

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Forgive me, Father, it has been one week since my last confession.”

****

“Tell me your sins, my child.”

****

Susan wound her rosary around her fingers, studying the impressions it made in her skin as she said, “I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain twice since last week. Once on Friday, and again on Tuesday.”

****

The wooden bench creaked as she fidgeted.

****

“Go on.”

****

“I-I’m still pregnant out of wedlock.” She wound the rosary tighter, watching distantly as the tips of her fingers turned white. In a smaller voice, she added, “And I still haven’t told the father.”

****

She rushed to clarify, “Of the baby, I mean. Not our heavenly Father. Of course I told Him. I mean, not that He doesn’t already know - He was there, right?”

****

She covered her eyes with her hand. _Get it together, Susan._

****

“Yes, God sees all sin. And He sees all that is good.”

****

_All that is good._ She cradled her belly.

****

After a few seconds of silence, the priest took a breath. “Perhaps you might write a letter to the young man.”

****

_The young man?_

****

“Father?” Susan glanced at the partition grate, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

****

“To explain your situation.”

****

Her face smoothed when she understood what he meant. “Oh.”

****

“The Father desires to know His children. And so it is with man.”

****

She tried to imagine Rick’s reaction. She couldn’t.

****

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she sighed. “I don’t know, Father. He’s… kind of a loose canon.”

****

She pictured him striding determinedly through the crowded streets of the French market, bomb unwittingly strapped to his back.

****

She snorted softly, smiling.  

****

“It’s in times like these the Lord calls upon us to have faith.” In a lighter tone, the priest added, “Sometimes people can surprise you.”

****

She rubbed her thumb over the cross on her rosary. It was a sailor’s cross, with an anchor fixed behind the crucifix.

****

It had belonged to her grandmother. Her first husband had been a lieutenant in the Navy, and spent the early years of their marriage at sea in the second World War. She’d kept it even after he was killed; it hung on the mirror of her vanity for as long as Susan could remember. Grammy said the rosary reminded her that God had a plan, and it wasn’t hers.

****

Susan could relate. “I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past life.”

****

“Ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers, my child.”  

****

“Thank you, Father.” She reached under the bench for her purse.

****

“Give thanks to the Lord,” the priest said in a gentle tone. “For He is good.”

****

Glancing down at her belly, she smiled. “He is, Father. His mercy endures forever.”

****

Her second week in Newport, Susan was loading groceries into her car and heard the bells of Saint Augustine toll the hour. It took her a week to work up the nerve to attend mass - it had been, gosh, a decade or more? - but she was glad she did. The sense of peace and comfort she remembered as a little girl, tucked into her grandmother’s side on Sunday mornings, came flooding back to her as she sang the opening lines of _Mary the Dawn_.

****

It was like riding a bike; a few missteps at first, and then she fell back into the routines and rituals as if she’d never left the Church. Nancy had attended mass with her when she’d visited last month, and walking arm-and-arm out of the cathedral into the cool October morning, she’d turned to Susan and beamed, “It suits you perfectly!”

****

Susan wasn’t sure about perfectly - she didn’t know if she believed in all the articles of faith, and clearly she didn’t follow all the dos and don’ts. What she did know is that she’d been longing for connection ever since she left DC. She was homesick for her apartment in Arlington, and for her long dinners with Nancy after work. For her grandmother’s house in Wyoming, with her steaming mugs of peppermint tea and her warm, soft hugs. For Rick, for his deep voice and strong hands and the smell of his cologne in her hair after they-

****

_Susan, stop._

****

Wrapping her long cardigan around herself, she stepped out into the crisp autumn air.

****

A young couple with a newborn baby passed her on their way to confession. The man carried his tiny infant bundled into the crook of his arm, his wife’s hand tucked in at his elbow.

****

She paused beside her car, one hand digging through her purse for her keys as the other unconsciously rubbed at the ache in her breast.

****

____________________________________________________________________________

****

That evening, after her shower, she sat down with her laptop and a cup of peppermint tea and opened her email. She hit Compose, purposely leaving the To box blank as she moved her cursor to the Subject bar.

****

_Subject: There’s Something I Need to Tell You_

****

That sounded… ominous.

****

She hit the Backspace.

****

_Subject: Greetings from Rhode Island_

****

She hesitated. Did she want him to know where she lived?

****

She tried to imagine Rick in her home, sitting at the dinner table in one of the cane-back chairs, wearing an immaculate suit and five o’clock shadow. Eating off her grandmother’s china, surrounded by chintz.

****

It made her want to sob and laugh out-loud at the same time.

****

The baby shifted in her belly, pressing a tiny foot into her side. She laid her hand over it and closed her eyes, letting the gentle pressure soothe her nerves.

****

“You can do this, Susan. Come on. You’re a warrior.”

****

She cleared the subject line and tabbed to the Text box.

****

_Dear Rick,_

****

She propped her elbows on the table, stacked her hands. She stared at her cursor.

 

It blinked back at her, _Well?_

****

She looked to the wallpaper, the cabinets, the dishes drying in their rack beside the sink. Nothing.

****

_I_

****

…

****

_wanted to tell you I’m pregnant. The baby is yours._

****

Good, straight to the point. She kept going.

****

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want_

****

….

****

What? To be talked out of yet another thing she’d so desperately wanted? To let someone else make her decisions for her again?

****

She pictured her mother, hemming over her acceptance letter to Cal Tech. _You’d never make it out there, Susan. It’s too overwhelming for a girl like you. You need to stay close to home, where it’s safe._

****

Jerry, sitting across from her in a restaurant on their second anniversary. _Here’s the thing, Suze: I’ve never really seen myself as a ‘father’..._

****

Fine, reaching for her hand across the dinner table. _We make a great team_.

****

She pressed her fingers to her mouth and closed her eyes.

****

The truth was she hadn’t trusted herself not to give up her baby if that’s what Rick wanted.

****

It had seemed so much easier to disappear. To quit her job and cash out her retirement and savings accounts, move seven hundred miles away from everything she knew, everyone she loved, and start over from scratch, pregnant and alone, rather than face the very likely possibility that he wouldn’t want her to go through with it.

****

All the times she tried to imagine his reaction  - his brow furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin, hard line as his finger jabbed at her, telling her this was fucking ridiculous, what the fuck did she think she was doing, she couldn’t go through with this, he wouldn’t let her-

****

“That’s enough,” she told the empty kitchen.

****

She closed her laptop.

____________________________________________________________________________

****

She dreamt about her baby.

****

She stood beneath an enormous banyan tree, her little newborn cradled in the crook of her arm. It was hard to make out the details of her baby’s face, but the tender ache in her breast told her her baby was beautiful. Perfect. She patted the infant’s warm bottom as she swayed gently side-to-side.

****

Her baby gurgled happily. She smiled.

****

High up above, tiny monkeys chattered as they chased each other through the banyan tree.

****

Susan raised her arm so that the baby was close to her face as she whispered, “See the monkeys?”

****

She pointed up into the tree, at the monkeys leaping and scampering among the branches. “Look at those monkeys.” She gasped, making an exaggerated expression of surprise. “What are those silly monkeys doing?”

****

Suddenly, there was a great boom, like the sound of thunder, and the monkeys began to screech and howl. Susan gathered her baby closer to her breast as she watched them scramble in unison, like a flock of birds taking flight, up and up until they were in the highest branches of the tree.

****

Then they were quiet.

****

Her stomach dipped and rolled, adrenaline tingled in her toes and in the tips of her fingers. Her baby whimpered; she clutched the bundle as tight as she dared, looking around in all directions.

****

She spotted him in standing in the short grass - a great male lion, with large golden eyes and a huge black-and-tan mane. On all fours, he was eye-level with her shoulders.

****

He stood perfectly still, watching her.

****

Her throat seized; she clapped her hand over her mouth to smother a scream.

****

_Susan, don’t you dare! Get it together, damn it. Get it together…_

****

She looked around for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

****

The monkeys watched silently from above.

****

Her baby mewled.

****

“Shh shh shh.” She rocked the baby lightly, up and down, up and down, feeling her lips tremble and her chin wobble as she fought a sob. “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok…”

****

The lion took a step forward, rumbling deep in its chest.

****

“Wait!” Susan threw out her hand, _Stop!_

****

The rumbling grew louder.

****

“Please,” she pleaded, knees starting to buckle beneath her. “Please - I’m begging you - don’t hurt my baby.”

****

The lion threw its head back, opened its great jaws wide, and roared.


	2. Chapter 2

She jolted awake with a gasp, kicking and clawing at her comforter and  groping frantically for her baby before she realized where she was.

****

“Get a grip, girlfriend!” she shouted, spitting strands of hair out of her mouth and wiping them off of her face. “Crying Pete…”

****

_It’s thunder, you big fraidy-cat_ , she chided herself as she heard the rumble over the rain pitter-pattering against her window. Cold blue light flashed through the curtains. _It’s just thunder and lightening._

****

_That’s weird_ , she thought when she noticed the sound wasn’t fading. In fact, she could have sworn it was getting louder.

****

She squinted at the light reflected in the mirror across her bedroom. It intensified as the rumbling crescendoed, shrinking to a single, sharp point in the glass.

****

A headlight.

****

Who would be in her driveway at - she looked at the alarm clock beside her bed - eleven o’clock at night?

****

_Why was there only one headlight?_

****

All at once, the sound died and the light cut off.

****

She pressed her palm into her breast and listened, straining to hear over the sound of her own breathing and the pounding of her heart in her ears.

****

Nothing.

****

Maybe they’d used her driveway to turn around?

****

_Boom boom boom!_

****

Someone was pounding up the porch steps.

****

“Oh man oh man oh man,” she whispered to herself as she tossed back the covers and scrambled for the top drawer of her nightstand. She fished out her pearl-handled Smith and Wesson - another family heirloom passed down from her grandmother. She left the lamp switched off, checking the chamber for bullets by the glow of the streetlamp outside her window.

****

Loaded.

****

Someone banged on her front door.

****

Her mind raced through scenarios as she crept down the staircase, hugging the wall.

****

Maybe this was some sort of ruse burglars used to get into people’s homes.

****

Maybe it was the police - something had happened to her mother, or to Nancy.

****

Would the police notify her if something happened to Nancy?

****

_Bang bang bang!_

****

Did the police knock like that?

****

She cocked her gun.

****

“Susan? Susan! Are you in there? Susan, Goddamnit, open the fuckin’ door!”

****

_Rick._

****

Everything seemed to short-circuit at once: her vision swam, her knees buckled, her heart hammered like it was trying to beat out of her chest. She swayed, missing the last step and dropping her pistol as she caught herself on the banister. It clattered to the floor and slid across the foyer.

****

“Susan, s’that you? I know you’re in there - come on, Susan. Open the door.”

****

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her other arm wrapped protectively around her belly. Oh God, her belly!

****

“For fuck’s sake, Susan - please!” He pounded the door again.

****

Down the street, a dog barked warningly.

****

_Christmas on a cracker..._

****

She took a deep breath, hands trembling so hard she could barely flip on the porch light and undo the chain lock before she opened the door.

****

Wearing a leather jacket and jeans, with a thick crop of dark stubble on his scalp and along his jaw, Rick Ford looked nothing like the man she’d met four months ago in Calcutta. He looked haggard and wild, like he hadn’t seen a soft bed or a square meal in days.

****

_And still so unbelievably handsome._

****

Rain fell all around her porch, filling the silence with soft sounds as it tat-tat-tatted against the leaves of the trees. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

****

He rubbed his hand over his chin as he stared at her.

****

She pinched the neck of her nightgown closed, fighting a shiver. “Rick? What are you doing-”

****

He looked past her, over her shoulder and into the house. “Is someone in there?”

****

She blinked, hesitating. “Is someone… what?”

****

He took a step forward, boots thudding heavily against the wood porch. “Is there someone else inside?”

****

“No.” She shook her head. “No, there’s no one. It’s just me.”

****

She closed her eyes, took a breath.

****

_This can’t be real._ _Rick, on the front porch, can’t be real._ “How did you-”

****

“You.” He jabbed his finger at her.

****

“Me?”

****

He nodded, eyes narrowing. “ _You_. What the fuck you think you’re doin’?”

****

“Wha-I- me?” She felt her cheeks heat up as something suspiciously like guilt niggled at her stomach. She scrambled to cover it with indignation.

 

“What about you!” She poked her finger back at him. “ _You_ are not supposed to be here. How did you find-” She suddenly noticed he was drenched. “Why the heck are you wet?”

****

His chin tilted in defiance. “S’cuse me, your Majesty. Can’t all ‘ave roofs on our motorcycles, can we?”

****

_Motorcycle?_ The single headlight.

****

She tried to peer at her driveway through the dark. “You drove a motorcycle from Virginia in the rain?” She threw her head back, covered her eyes with her hand. “God, Rick, could you be any more of an idiot?”

****

“Driven a lot more that, lookin’ for your arse-”

****

“You could have gotten yourself killed!”

****

“-up and down the coast, both of ‘em, ‘cross the desert.” He started to count them off on his hand, “Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada - the plains - been fuckin’ everywhere lookin’ for you! Even went to Mississippi - you know what a shit ’ole that place is?”

****

Rick on his motorcycle, riding in the rain through the dark, searching for her. Her shoulders sagged.

****

He took another step closer, so close now she could see the lines in his face under the porch light. _Have they always been that deep?_

****

“Been goin’ fuckin’ barkers lookin’ for you. And ‘ere you’ve been, all along,” he looked around the porch, “playin’ ‘ouse, probably laughin’ your arse off-”

****

Her throat pinched painfully. Eyes stinging, she shook her head emphatically. “No! Rick, I wasn’t. I would _never_ \- if I knew you were-”

****

He closed the gap between them, standing so close her belly bumped into his abs, dampening her nightgown. He cupped her face in his hands. “Susan.”

****

Her hands hooked in the crook of his elbows, slipping a little on the beads of water clinging to his leather jacket.

****

He stroked his thumb over her cheek, breath hot and moist on her face as he rumbled, “Look at me.”

****

When had she closed her eyes?

 

She opened them, and instantly regretted it. His face was creased in pain, eyes shining in the light.

****

“Don’t-” He stopped, swallowed. “Don’t ever do that again. You understand? Don’t ever fuckin’ scare me like that again, Susan.”

****

His voice was a strangled whisper. “Or I’ll go mad. I swear I will.”

****

Her breast ached. “Rick-”

****

He kissed her.

****

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her into him, the other threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging to tip her head back. His lips were cool and damp against hers, stubble rough on her skin. She opened her mouth for him, whimpering as his tongue stroked into her. He pressed her closer, his mouth moving firmly against hers, their lips making soft, sensual sounds as they kissed. She wound her arms round his neck, pulling him towards her as she sucked his tongue.

****

They were both panting as they pulled apart. The front of her nightgown was soaked; it clung to her breasts and belly.

****

He touched his forehead to hers, stroked her hair back from her shoulder. “Miss me, sweet’eart?”

****

Her hand shook so hard she could barely touch the corner of his mouth with her fingertips. “Yes.”

****

She had, so so much.

****

“I missed you.” Forehead still pressed to hers, he glanced down at her tits, gripped her ass with his large, strong hands and squeezed. “God, I missed you, Susan.”

****

_So good._

****

“Mmm-nmm…”

****

His hands smoothed up her waist, cupped her breasts.

****

“Uhhn Rick…” Her head dropped back at the sensation. It had been so long since -

****

“Fuck, missed these fuckin’ noises you make for me.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

****

“Gonna make these noises for me when I fuck you?” he breathed as he broke the kiss.

****

“Oh God.” _Can’t breathe._

****

He thumbed her nipples through the damp fabric of her nightgown and kissed her again.

****

Sliding, everything was sliding as her horizon started to tilt up and over her.

****

Rick, here. Hands on her body, mouth on hers, wet and hard and strong and Rick.

****

Her body sang, _Rick Rick Rick Rick -_

****

“Whoa, ‘ang on!” His arms cinched around her waist, some of the cocksureness back in his voice as he rumbled in her ear, “Let’s get you inside ‘fore you go faintin’ away with desire.”

****

_Inside?_ She fought to the surface. There was a reason Rick shouldn’t go inside.

****

She heard him grunt, “Put on a bit, didya?” as he changed up his grip.

****

He gave her a boyish grin, bending at the knee, “Not that I mind.”

****

She gasped - _the baby things!_ “Rick, wait!”

****

“Christ, you been depressed or somethin’?” he growled as he lifted.

****

Her arms clamped around his neck, hands scrambling against wet leather as they fisted in his jacket. “No, Rick - you can’t come in!”

****

“Susan,” he wheezed, swaying a bit before he got his legs under him. “You’re chokin’ me.”

****

He managed to hook the front door with his boot as he staggered over the threshold, pulling the door closed behind him. He eyed the stairs doubtfully, panting, “S’there a sofa or somethin’?”

****

He looked around, spotted her living room. “Nevah mind. Found it.”

****

“No! No no no!” She tried to wriggle out of his arms. “Jesus, you’re strong-”

****

“Stop- movin’,” he growled, ratcheting up his grip. “Gonna drop you if you- don’t- stop-”

****

He dumped her onto the couch; she landed on her back with an unceremonious, “Omph!”

****

He braced his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Don’t remember it bein’ that ‘ard in Bo’emia.” He looked around as he straightened. “Maybe I’m just outta prac-”

****

He stopped cold, eyes fixed on the half-assembled playpen next to the coffee table.

****

_Mother butler._

****

Her stomach flipped. Mouth working, she tried to say something - anything. Nothing came out.

****

Everything seemed to slow down as he rounded the coffee table, stopping in front of the neat pile of baby things.

****

He tapped the swing with the toe of his boot, jerking back a little as the tiny jungle animals hanging from the mobile lit up and spun around. He pinned her with a wide-eyed stare, lips parted in shock.

****

“What-” He scrubbed a hand over his head, then waved it over the pile. “What the fuck is this?”

****

The pleasant warmth she’d felt in his arms dissolved as something cold slipped through her gut. Her eyes slid from his to the swing and back. “It’s a swing.”

****

“Yes,” he snapped, ignoring her flinch. “I can see that.”

****

He stooped to snatch up a cloth elephant; it rattled as he brandished it at her. “Let me try a different line of questionin’, then - what the fuck is this shit doin’ in your fuckin’ livin’ room?”

****

She stared up at him, frozen in shock. Her worst nightmare - Rick Ford finding out she was pregnant and having a nuclear meltdown - was coming true, right smack in the middle of her living room.

****

She fought the urge to retch.

****

_I should have gone to an island. I should have gone to the moon._

****

“Susan,” his voice was low and dangerous as he asked, “are you pregnant?”

****

She swallowed, unable to speak. Unable to move.

****

He shook the elephant. It jingled helplessly as he snarled, “Answer me, Goddamnit!”

****

“Yes!” She cradled herself defensively as his eyes dropped to her belly.

****

She took a deep breath, blew it out. _It’s ok - it’s too late to go back. It’s ok._

****

Her chin tilted slightly as met his eyes. Calmly, quietly, she repeated, “Yes, Rick. I’m pregnant.”

****

The toy squeaked in his grip as his fist tightened around it. “Is it-” He stopped, face creasing in pain, and worked his throat. His voice was rough as he asked, “Is it mine?”

****

Her heart squeezed. “Yes.”

****

He ducked his head, nodding. Then he propped his hands on his hips, tipped his head back and sniffed.

****

“So let me get this straight: you find out you’re pregnant - with my baby - and you… what?” He threw his arms out at his sides. “Take off? Cash in your chips, come to Rhode fuckin’ Island and pretend I don’t exist? What exactly do you tell people when they ask? That I died, that I’m in prison, that I’m a deadbeat fuckin’ father and a shit’eel and I deserved it? Saint Susan, single mother - s’that what you’re playin’ at?”

****

“No! Rick, I would never, ever say that-” She peddled her feet, hands sinking into the cushions behind her as she tried to push herself up to sitting. Pregnancy hadn’t done her center of gravity any favors.

****

He thumbed his nose, shook his finger at her. “You- you’re a real piece a’work, you know that Susan? A real fuckin’ piece a’work.”

****

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

****

“Wha- hey! Listen, buddy-” She finally managed to pull herself upright by the sofa arm and was working her feet under her to stand. “What was I supposed to do - call you up from Cambodia and say, Hi Rick, guess who’s coming to dinner with us in Cozumel? I’ll give you a hint - it starts with a ‘B’ and ends with an ‘aby’!”

****

“Yes!” he roared, arms wide and high in the air. “Yes, that’s exactly what you should ‘ave fuckin’ done! Not-” he waved his hand around the room in disgust, “this!”

****

She rounded the coffee table, outrage lashing through her like a whip. How dare this jackass, this pompous paper tiger, tell her what she should have done.

****

_Who the eff does he think he is?_

****

“Oh well, ex-cuuuse me for not consulting the high-horse handbook, Mister Moral Authority! Maybe you should lend me your copy!”

****

“S’not about moral fuckin’ authority, you silly stupid cow!” he shouted, pointing his finger in her face. She slapped it away, so he jabbed it at the floor. “S’about decency, and doin’ what’s right! You should ‘ave told me, Susan. You owed me that much!”

****

She balked. “I _owed_ you? For what, Rick? Saving my life?” She threw her hands in the air. “Whoops, nope - I saved yours.” She poked him in the chest, ignoring his scowl. “What - exactly - did I owe you, Rick? Please tell me, because I’m confused. It’s not like we were in love.”

****

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

****

His expression changed completely; he looked like she’d slapped him in the face. Hard.

****

Her stomach lurched, face softening as she backpedaled. “Rick, I didn’t- I didn’t mean…”

****

He ducked his head, pressed his tongue into his cheek.

****

“Weren’t in love, is it?” he asked softly. He nodded to himself, shrugging his shoulders. “Right, got it. My fuckin’ mistake.”

****

He looked around her living room, then back at her. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

****

For a moment she was too stunned and horrified to move, and then her mind clicked into gear and she scrambled after him, catching him in her foyer by the jacket sleeve. “Rick, wait!”

****

“No no, far be it for me to make you miserable, Susan. Been ridin’ all over the fuckin’ country lookin’ for you, too thick to take a fuckin’ ‘int. I ‘ear you loud and clear now, darlin’. Won’t subject you to a man you don’t love anymore.” He made a chopping motion.

****

_A man you don’t love_. She flinched.

****

“Should a’known you weren’t over ‘im - Beverly Whine. S’that what this is, then? Been sittin’ ‘ere ‘opin’ ‘e’ll see the fuckin’ light?” he scoffed in disgust.

****

“No! God- Rick.” She caught the front of his jacket and tugged. Her voice cracked as she pleaded desperately, “Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I should have told you- I should have called- Rick, you can’t go - I don’t want you to go-”

****

He caught her wrists. “Don’t play games with me, Susan-”

****

“I’m not!” She tugged harder. “Rick, please! I’m not. I- I wanted this baby so badly, for so many years, and I-” She was starting to hyperventilate, throat closing and vision blurring with tears. “I didn’t think you’d want- and I knew if you didn’t I wouldn’t-  because I never, _ever_ have the freaking guts and I- I’m sorry. I’m so sor-” Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped for air.

****

“Alright alright, easy now. Make yourself sick, carryin’ on like that.” He took her by the shoulders, trying to catch her eyes. “Look at me, Susan. Come on, that’s it. Take a deep breath.”

****

She nodded, gulping air as she sobbed.

****

He wrapped his arms around her, one large hand cradling her head to his chest and the other rubbing circles in her back. “Shh shh shh. None a’that, now.”

****

He combed his fingers through her hair. His heart beat strong and clear in his chest; she concentrated on the rhythm as she took long sips of air. _Bum-bump bum-bump bum-bump..._

****

The baby shifted in her womb, pressing against her stomach, reaching for him.

****

_Rick._

****

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hot tears tracking down her cheeks. “Rick, I’m so sorry.”

****

He leaned back a little to look at her, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She tilted her chin up, searching his face. He threaded his fingers through her hair, thumb stroking over her cheek.

****

“I would never ‘ave asked you to-” He stopped, swallowed.

****

He touched his forehead to hers. His eyes were shining, voice thick with emotion. “I ‘ave always wanted you - this.” He laid his hand over her belly, fingers splayed wide. “I ‘ave always wanted you.”

****

She covered his hand with hers, choking back another sob. “R-really?”

****

He snorted, giving her a rueful smile. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he told her, “Been makin’ a fuckin’ fool outta myself for you for years, Susan.”

****

She let out a short, startled laugh. Rick Ford, a fool for her?

****

_Ok, thanks lunch lady. You really think you’re ready for the field? Goddamnit, if I was tryin’ to sound romantic, you’d be lyin’ on the floor, soakin’ wet and breathless, wonderin’ what came over you. You can’t let your desire for me put you in danger, Coopah. I’m savin’ you!_

****

“What? Since when?” she asked as she sniffed.

****

He looked up at the ceiling as he thought about it. “When’dyou start?”

****

“At Langley?” She tried to remember. “Oh gosh, it must have been... March, or April maybe?”

****

That was over ten years ago.

****

He nodded. “Was a week before Easter, wasn’t it?”

****

“That’s right, it- Wait, how did you- Get outta here!” She couldn’t believe he remembered.

****

He grinned. “You ‘ad that cube - remember the old ones? With the carpeted walls? It was next to Sharon’s. You were wearing a little purple dress, and leggin’s, and you said-”

****

“ _Ford - like the car._ So I’d remember it.” It came back to her; she could picture him leaning with his shoulder propped against her cubicle, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. He wore his hair in a short dark crop back then. The smug smile hadn’t changed, though.

****

“And I said, _Won’t be forgettin’ you, Miss Coopah_.”

****

She giggled wetly, giving him a fond look. “You were so cheesy.”

****

He grinned. “You were a fuckin’ fox.”

****

“Ha!” She blushed. “You…” She concentrated on the zipper of his jacket as she fingered it lightly. Finally, she glanced up at him through her lashes. “You never said anything.”

****

“You ‘ad a boyfriend, didn’t you?” He looked at her seriously. “And then a ‘usband.”

****

_Jerry._ She winced.

****

_And then there was Fine._

****

“Oh, I wanted to. Badly.” He cupped her face, tipped it up to catch the light from the lamp with her eyes. “Believe me, Susan.”

****

She thought about the company Christmas parties at the Radisson, him hulking beside her all evening, refilling her glass and telling her ridiculous stories and snarling when her coworkers tried to interrupt their little party-for-two. His hands smoothing down her arms as he helped her into her coat. Hailing her a cab, her hand in his as she climbed in, eyes impossibly dark as he’d rumble, _Good night, Miss Coopah. Same time next year?_

****

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I thought you were being… polite.” At the quirk of his eyebrow, she admitted, “Sometimes, I wondered. But you were always so… Rick Ford, and I could hear my mom’s voice in my head, you know? _Making a wave isn’t always brave_.”

****

_Isn’t that ridiculous? You and Rick Ford? Hysterical!_

****

Ok, so not just her mom’s voice.

****

He snorted. “If I’d thought for even one second you’d leave that silly fuckin’ wanker…”

****

He let the rest hang between them.

****

She smoothed her hand over his cheek, his short beard prickling her palm. “Rick, sweetie, I am so sorry.”

****

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked down between them and took her nightgown by the hips, working it slowly up over her knees, her thighs, her belly.

****

When he’d gathered it under her breasts, he stepped back a little, letting his eyes wander over her. Admiring her.

****

She tried not to fidget.

****

He stroked his hand over her swollen belly. “S’that my baby?” he asked quietly.

****

Her heart lept. She nodded.

****

He surprised her by kneeling and taking the sides of her belly in both hands, pressing his face into her. She stroked her hands over his head and shoulders as he peppered her with soft, open-mouthed kisses.

****

The baby shifted, pressing a tiny foot into her stomach, right above her belly button. She moved his hand over it, pushing his palm into her lightly. “Say something.”

****

“What?” He glanced up at her.

****

That was new - Rick Ford, unsure of himself.

****

She smiled, tracing the lines on his forehead with her fingertips as she told him, “The baby likes to be talked to. Say something.”

****

His voice was low and gruff as he murmured, “‘ello, little one... This is Rick Ford, your- your father. I’m so ‘appy to meet you.”

****

He looked at her as he repeated, “I’m so ‘appy.”

****

Her chest tightened. “Please don’t go, Rick. Please.” Her chin wobbled as she whispered, “I want you to stay.”

****

He stood, taking the sides of her face in his hands as he told her, “Never. I’ll never go.”

****

She wound her arms around his neck and pressed up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him.

****

Her nightgown was still bunched under her breasts, she realized as he smoothed his hands over her bare ass and squeezed. He backed her carefully into the living room as he dipped his head, covering her face and neck with kisses.

****

They were both trembling as he knelt before her, guiding her hands to his shoulders and lowering her slowly to the rug. She helped him peel off his clothes, sucking her tongue at how cold and damp his skin was from driving miles on his bike in the rain. She laid back on the soft rug, reaching between her legs for him and coaxing gently, “Come get warm, baby.”

****

He knelt between them, folding over her belly to bury his face in her neck as he stroked into her. She smoothed her hands up the muscles in his arms, over his shoulders and along his back, feeling them flex as he pumped his hips against hers, gentle at first, and then faster and harder, until she was gasping and mewling and jerking beneath him.

****

“That’s it, baby.” Her knees hugged his hips, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other digging her nails into his ass, voice catching in her throat as she whispered, “Give it to me. Yes - oh God - give it all to me, baby.”

****

“Thought- never- find- you. Goin’- fuckin’- outta- my- mind- Ahh fuck-”

****

“I know, baby, I know.” She flinched as he butted against her cervix, head tipping back at the feeling of him so deep inside her, stretching her to her limit, touching the part of her that was just for him.

****

He wasn’t going to last long - she could feel it in his frantic thrusts and the way his voice thinned and cracked in her ear as he told her he loved her. She clenched around him, pulling him in deeper, intensifying the aching sensation of each backward drag. They both moaned.

****

“Can’t-” he grunted, pounding into her so hard her breasts and belly shifted up his body. “Susan-”

****

“Shh. It’s ok, baby. Come on.” She squeezed tighter around him as she gathered him in her arms, hearing his low, guttural sob against her neck. He shook. “Come on, Rick. Come to me, baby.”

****

Three more strokes and he came, growling her name and holding himself so deep inside her her hips rocked up off the rug.

****

“So good, baby,” she soothed, stroking her hands over his head and shoulders and down the center of his back. He was warm to the touch now, skin flushed in exertion and afterglow. She kissed his lips as he raised his head, eyelids heavy and jaw loose, relaxed.

****

He smiled at her, corner of his eyes crinkling lightly. “God, I fuckin’ missed you.”

****

She grinned back, flashing her dimples. “I kinda got that, yeah.” He huffed a laugh.

****

She was exhausted, she realized. They both were. She shifted, ignoring the pinch in her lower back as she patted his bicep. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

****

“What bout you?” he slurred, uncoordinated as he tried to untangle his legs from hers.

****

“Later.” She yawned, relieved when he dragged his weight off of her and sat back on his heels. She stretched, wiggling her fingers above her head and then up at him. “Help me up?”

****

He did, off the floor and up the stairs and into bed.

****

They laid down on their sides, her belly pressed between them, gathered up in his arms with her hands folded on his chest and her head tucked under his chin.

****

The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was his fingers combing through her hair.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, at two-thirty in the afternoon, the field call icon on Sharon’s desktop blinked.

****

The ID said _Alpha_.

****

She paused the query she was running for intel on Cress’s latest assignment and opened her Run command box. She typed _sx_v5.1x_ and hit enter, tucking her headset into her hair as she waited.

****

When the _Security System Error_ warning popped up on her screen, she answered the call with a dry, “What it do, shawty?”

****

He chuckled. “How long ‘ave you got?”

****

“Five minutes before the system admin backhacks my network and kills the job.” She smirked, pleased with her program. “What’s the sitch?”

****

There was a pause, and then, “She’s pregnant.”

****

_Whoa, daddy. Literally._ “Way to cut to the chase, B.”

****

“You said five minutes.”

****

Confident she already knew the answer, she asked, “Who’s the father?”

****

“Talkin to ‘im, aren’t you?” His voice was full of pride.

****

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “Aww, well congrats big papa.”

****

Rick Ford, a father.

****

She looked at the photo of her girls pinned to her board, remembering Ford hunkering down with them on her living room floor, his deep baritone taking on a high, sassy lilt as he sashayed Winter Wishes Barbie down the coffee table catwalk.

****

“You’ll be a natural.”

****

He let out a nervous laugh. “Is it?”

****

“Positively,” she told him with affection. “So, do I hear wedding bells a ring-ting-tingling, too?” She took a sip of her coffee.

****

He sighed. She could practically hear him rub his chin before he said, “Not exactly…”

****

“Hmm.” Her brow furrowed.

****

“It’s all that once-bitten-twice-shy shit, yah know?” he explained. He sounded tired. “S’gonna take me some time.”

****

She winced sympathetically, thinking about her own divorce. “Yeah, I hear you.”

****

Some of the swagger was back in his voice as he assured her, “She’ll come round.”

****

She snorted. “You know what they say: it’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll.”

****

“Too right,” he agreed wryly.

****

She imagined Cooper, hugely pregnant and glowing, her hand tucked into Ford’s elbow and her dimples on overdrive as she greeted the basement at Langley. She smiled.

****

“So when will you guys be back? Do you think Coop will want a shower? Ooo, do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

****

“Sharon-” Something in his voice made her sit up straighter.

****

It sounded… sad.

****

_Why is he sad?_

****

“What is it, B? What’s wrong?”

****

He blew out a long breath. “I- we’re not comin’ back. To DC.”

****

She slumped back in her chair, stunned.

****

Ford was quitting. For good.

****

“Sharon?”

****

She tried to sound light, overshooting the mark and practically chirping as she quipped, “So, it’s Rhode Island or bust, huh? Couldn’t a’picked a cheaper place?”

****

“Share-”

****

“You know, Boss-” Her eyes stung; she wiped at them furiously, _No no no_. “You’re gonna have one hell of a time selling your condo. The market’s shit right now. Does she even have enough closet space in that house for all your suits and turtlenecks? Oh, maybe you’ll get your own sewing room-”

****

“Sharon, Goddamnit, would you shut the fuck up for a second?” he growled. “Please? I’m tryin’ to say somethin’ ere.” The _before we run out of time_ was implied.

****

_Knows all my tricks._

****

She took a deep breath and said quietly, “The floor’s yours.”

****

The funny thing about Ford was, he had a selective memory. He could remember the things he wanted to - her and the girls’ birthdays, what she always ordered at the pub, that her favorite color was hot orange and she loved Def Leppard. He remembered every detail of his epic heroics, even the ones from fifteen years ago, when they were the new kids on the block at the agency, and everyone said they wouldn’t make it.

****

It was the things he didn’t want to remember that he couldn’t. Things that were too painful, that broke his stride. That broke his heart. Things like what his mother looked like, or his wedding anniversary after Elise was killed, or the name of Cooper’s ex-husband.

****

_Like now_ , she thought as the silence stretched out between them. _He forgot he hates saying goodbye._

****

“Sharon,” his voice was low and gruff.

****

She bit her lip to keep her mouth from wobbling.“Yeah?”

****

“Ah, fuck.” He sounded further away from the phone as he sniffed. “Listen: you’ve done a good job - a phenomenal job. I know it wasn’t always easy-”

****

She snorted loudly, thinking about all the times he’d scared her shitless. "Understatement of the year."

****

She could hear the grin in his voice as he said, “They used to call us a couple a’underdogs. Said we ‘ad more flash than sense-”

****

“You. You had more flash than sense-”

****

“And they were wrong. We changed the game, you an’ me.” He cleared his throat. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, s’been an honor workin’ with you, Sharon and I- I’m always ‘ere, if you need me.”

****

She covered her hand with her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as she fought back a sob. Finally she managed a soft, “Back at you, B.”

****

“Listen, darlin’, stiff upper lip and all. Don’t let those bastards grind you down. Got that, old girl?”

****

Even though he couldn’t see her, she nodded. “Got it.”

****

“Come and see us, yeah?” His voice sounded strangled.

****

“Will do,” she breathed as the edges of her vision blurred.

****

“Good girl. Gotta ring off now.”

****

_Oh thank God._ “Take it easy, bo- Rick.”

****

“You too, luv.”

****

The line cut, and a few seconds later, her monitors went dark as the security admin finally managed to reboot her system.

****

Staring at her blank screens, she saw a handsome young man with a sharp widow’s peak and large arms crossed over his chest. He propped his hip against her filing cabinet as gave her a cocky grin. _What say we show ‘em ‘ow it’s done, aye darlin’?_

****

She stood, taking her coat and purse off the hook beside her desk.

****

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to no one in particular as she headed for the elevators.

****

She waited for the kick in her gut as the elevator lurched downward to put her head in her hands and sob.

****

____________________________________________________________________________

******  
**

“Right over…” Susan shuffled through the leaves a few more feet, closing one eye as she lined up with the kitchen window. _Perfect._

****

She beamed at him. “Here!”

****

He shook his head, calling, “S’not gonna work.”

****

She blinked, glancing down around her feet. “Why not?” she called back.

****

Squinting against the mid-day sunlight filtering through the trees, he surveyed her backyard one last time from the raised patio before making his way down the steps.

****

“For what you were sayin’ you wanted to plant last night-” he looked from the large stick she’d staked in the ground to mark one corner of the future vegetable garden to where she was standing. “S’not gonna be big enough.”

****

He pulled up the stick, leaves crunching under his bootheel as he took it back another twenty feet. “Needs to be about ‘ere, at least.”

****

She watched him work it into the earth, muscles in his biceps flexing powerfully. She was still getting used to this Rick - the one who wore jeans and crewneck tee shirts and steel-toed boots.

****

“You’d need to come out about…” He walked across the yard, perpendicular to the stick he’d just planted, until he was directly behind her. “Here.”

****

She had turned around to watch him. “What about the slope?”

****

He waved it off, _No big deal_. “We’ll level it. S’easy; bit a dirt and a retainin’ wall,” he assured her as she picked her way to him through the leaves, one hand in the air for balance and the other cradling her belly. Her yard was deceptively uneven in spots.

****

He stretch out his hand to her. “Careful.”

****

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear and taking his hand as she drew nearer. His fingers felt pleasantly rough against hers.

****

She let him guide her into his arms, smoothing her hands up over his chest as his settled on her hips.

****

“If we do raised beds, won’t be an issue a’tall,” he murmured, dipping his head so that their foreheads nearly touched.

****

A breeze picked up around them, rustling the leaves on the ground and in the trees. She hooked her finger to pull a strand of hair out of her mouth as she teased, “You can build all that?”

****

He smirked, waggling his eyebrows at her as he slid his hands up her waist to cup her breasts. “With these two ‘ands.”

****

“Wow, aren’t you… a Jack of all trades…” she trailed off as he kissed her, swaying into him. He caught her with his strong arms around her waist.

****

“You ‘ave no idea, darlin’,” he rumbled as they broke the kiss with a soft smooch.

****

Heat pooled low in her belly. She pushed up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him again, moaning softly when he stroked his tongue into her mouth.

****

“What time is it?” she asked quietly when they pulled apart.

****

He glanced at his wristwatch. His Montblanc looked ridiculously out-of-place next to his Levis and the flannel overshirt tied around his hips. “S’nine-thirty.”

****

_Plenty of time._

****

She smiled, tracing the side of his jaw with her fingertips. “Let’s go lie down.”

****

“Tired?” He splayed his hand over her belly, brow wrinkling in concern.

****

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head slowly. “No…” She waited for him to catch up.

****

The lines in his face smoothed out when he did. His smirk returned. “Ahh.”

****

She nodded, threading her fingers through his and turning to lead him back inside by the hand. “Come on, baby.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Forgive me, Father, it has been one week since my last confession.”

****

“Tell me your sins, my child.”

****

Susan looked down at her belly, smiling sheepishly to herself as she stroked her hand over it. “I know this isn’t exactly the right… time-” She glanced around the dark wooden confessional. “Or the place, but I- I wanted to tell you, Father, that I told the father about my-his-our baby.”

****

“The father of our baby,” she rushed to add. “Not-”

****

“Our heavenly Father?” She didn’t miss the gentle humor in the priest’s voice.

****

She took a deep breath. “Yes. Sorry. I know it’s a little… off topic.”

****

He chuckled. “I am delighted to hear it.”

****

She beamed. “It’s a load off my shoulders, Father.”

****

“ _For my yoke is easy and my burden is light_. So it is when the sheep follow the shepherd, is it not?”

****

She nodded at the partition. “Yes, Father.”

****

There was a comfortable pause between them, and then in a quiet tone he prompted, “Are there any sins you’d like to confess, my child?”

****

“Oh! Oh, gosh, yes! Yes, of course, Father.”

 

She blushed. “I… well, let’s see… hmm. I’ve had premarital - uh - relations… um-”

****

_Shoot._ She’d meant to count them in the car on the way over.

****

Ok, once on Wednesday, twice on Thursday, Friday… there was the time on the kitchen table - _I need to re-glue that leg_ \- and then on the washing machine - _did Rick get the dent out of the lid?_ Saturday, two times. Sunday, yes. Monday, yes. Yesterday?

****

An image of him on his side behind her, holding her leg in the air as he stroked into her, his sweat-slicked chest sliding along her back, her head turned to kiss him over her shoulder as they panted into each other’s mouths, flashed in her mind.

****

_Definitely yesterday._

****

“That’s… eight- no, ten… eleven!” She’d almost forgotten this morning. She recounted on her fingers to be sure, nodding to herself when she was. “Yes, eleven times.”

****

_Whew._

****

“And I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain… oh gosh… hmm.”

****

Rick, his head between her thighs, tongue flicking the dip in her clit and fingers pumping into her as she came over and over again, chanting, _Oh God oh God oh God oh God-_

****

Him behind her, strong grip on her hips, his cock so deep inside her. _Fuck God Rick Jesus please fuck harder God Rick!_

****

The bench creaked loudly as she fidgeted. She fanned herself, cheeks flaming as she mumbled, “It’s… it’s been a lot, Father.”

****

“So I sensed.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps now that you’ve… come back together-”

****

She snorted softly. That was one way to put it...

****

“You might consider formalizing your union before God and your families.”

****

“Hmm?” The rather vivid memory of Rick’s mouth on her breasts faded as the priest’s words settled in her mind like silt at the bottom of a glass of water.

****

_Formalizing our union?_ “You mean… marriage?”

****

“In a word, yes.”

****

She took a deep breath. “Father, I- I’m divorced.”

****

“The Catholic church has considerably softened its stance towards these things in the last ten years.” _Pish posh_ , his tone said.

****

“No! No, that’s- that’s not what I meant. Of course they have. I wasn’t-” She chewed her lip. “What I meant, Father, is I don’t know if I… have another one in me.”

****

She tried not to wince as she thought about Jerry.

****

“I see. It is a serious matter, marriage. Both material and spiritual. As you well know-”

****

She sighed.

****

“It can be a very difficult thing.” His tone took on a softness that suddenly made her ache for her grandmother. “And it can be nourishing, sustaining thing as well.”

 

What was it Grammy used to say? _He put the animals on the boat two-by-two for a reason, Susan. We aren’t meant to weather the storm alone._ ****

****

She pictured Rick, the way he looked as he came in that morning, plastic grocery bags in hand as he stomped his boots against the welcome mat. Standing in front of her stove, sleeves of his overshirt rolled up over his forearms, frying eggs and bacon and talking about raking up the leaves in the backyard before it rained again.

She rubbed her belly. “Yes, Father. It can be. It can definitely be.”

****

“Consider it in prayer, my dear.”

****

“I will.” She meant it.

****

As she reached under the bench for her purse, the priest added, “Perhaps your young man might come with you, next time? Take a load off his shoulders as well?”

****

She felt rather than saw the smile they shared through the partition. “Oh, Father, I don’t know. He’s English, and a Protestant.”

****

The priest chuckled. “We wouldn’t hold it against him.”

****

“Ha!”

 

She clapped her hand over her mouth, whispering guiltily between her fingers, “Sorry, Father.”

****

“Do not trouble yourself, my child. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”

****

She smiled. “His mercy endures forever.”

****

Outside in the parking lot, Rick was leaning against the driver-side door of her sudan, legs crossed at the ankle and hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Go ok?”

****

She nodded, beaming. “Yep! Lots to think about. Hungry?”

****

He had a knowing smirk as he straightened and opened the door for her. “Are you?”

****

“Starving.” She pressed up onto the balls of her feet, one hand in the center of his chest for balance as she kissed him. “Feed me, Seymour.”

****

He grinned, waiting to close her door as she climbed into the car. “Watch your ‘ead.”

****

“I’m watching, I’m watching.”

****

“You buckled?”

****

“Gosh- Rick, can I get my foot in first, please?”

****

“See that you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> It felt so good to write Cooper/Ford again that I wanted to tell a story with a happy ending, start to finish, before dragging myself back to the misery of their break-up in The Hound and the Hen.
> 
> This piece was inspired by a shortie I wrote for Halloween, Wait A Minute Mister Postman! It can be considered a part of that verse, or a stand-alone. I may add more pieces if the muse strikes me.
> 
> I appreciate each and every one of your kudos, and most especially your comments. :)
> 
> Xo,  
> Pastel


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